


do u maybe wanna go out w me?? - R

by nymphstreet



Series: pride 20gayteen [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Barricade Day, Drabble, High School, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Notes, almost definitely OOC, for a flashback (kind of), i dont really know what style this is but its cute?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:04:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymphstreet/pseuds/nymphstreet
Summary: Grantaire gives Enjolras two notes.





	do u maybe wanna go out w me?? - R

**Author's Note:**

> check out my [tumblr?](https://nympahdcra.tumblr.com)
> 
> this is my work for both barricade day 2018 and pride month 2018

To say that Enjolras is a man living with his head in the past would be like saying dinosaurs still roamed the earth. Enjolras is very here, very now. On the opposite side of the spectrum, however, is Enjolras’ boyfriend, Grantaire. Grantaire spends the majority of his waking hours wishing he could go back to when he first asked Enjolras out and simply live through it again. Exactly as it was the first time around. He wants to have more time with the blond. Neither of them are dying, don’t worry, both just never want to have to live without the other.

It’s a funny story, how the two came to be. The vignette begins with two boys, aged eighteen. It was their senior year of high school. Enjolras and Grantaire had advanced calculus together and, as usual, Grantaire was paying minimal attention. He was always distracted, and yet always seemed to get A grades. (What a wanker). Contrary to Grantaire, Enjolras was taking vigorous notes, illegible to everyone but himself. Enjolras sat at the desk in front of Grantaire, his only friend in the class. That is, if you classed them as _friends._ Enjolras was usually exasperated at Grantaire, and the latter was usually flirting. With Enjolras, that is. And, honestly, it had taken them all the way up until 12th grade to get to that point. The casual teasing from Grantaire stopped evoking fights only in the past year. It was a milestone to be celebrated, really.

Then, on a somewhat cool day, sitting at the very same desk in advanced calc as he always did, Enjolras felt a tap on his shoulder. Before he could even turn his head, a piece of folded paper was dropped over his shoulder from a paint stained set of fingers he would grow very acquainted with in the coming years. As he opened the note, a sense of something almost like dread set in. Then he actually looked at it and he felt a physical reaction to the bucket-loads of relief he felt. A grin slowly spread across his face without his permission.

_do u maybe wanna go out w me?? – R_

_[ ]yes                           [ ] no_

Well, obviously he wasn’t going to say no to the cute boy with paint splattered on his hands, (and his clothes, in his hair, a smudge on his cheek. Everywhere, really). And so, with that thought in the back of his mind, Enjolras carefully ticked the _yes_ box. Turning in his seat, he attempted a suave, lazy grin at Grantaire, (it really did look like a grimace), and handed back the folded notebook paper. Grantaire was not optimistic, and then? Well, then he was pleasantly surprised. Their first date was a small (vegetarian) picnic in the only park they could both get to.

Now, nearly seven years later, at age 25, Grantaire has his arms around Enjolras as they sit on the worn, grey couch in their friends’ living room. Enjolras feels a tap on his shoulder, parallel to the one when he was eighteen, not that he remembers the feeling from all those years ago. Once again a slip of paper is dropped into his lap. He looks over his other shoulder at his boyfriend. And then he raises a weirdly bitchy eyebrow. Grantaire raises one right back at him. He turns back and unfolds the new note. Then, in a flurry of movement he has turned himself in his partner’s lap and is kissing the daylights out of him.

The note flutters to the ground, not forgotten, just unimportant for the moment. It reads:

_do u maybe wanna marry me?? – R_

_[ ]yes                           [ ] no_

A single word is uttered between the two of them.

“Yes.”

Later, if one were to go snooping in the shared bedroom of the newly engaged couple, one would find a shoebox, the lid lying on the ground next to it. Inside this box is two notes, one slightly yellowed and the other a crisp white. ‘Crisp’, that’s a lie, both the notes are stained with colour, one of old paint and the other of newer paint. But dried nonetheless. It’s a wonder that the box didn’t get crushed in the couple’s haste toward the bed. That’s a story for another day, I suppose.


End file.
